Home Is Where The Hell Is
by deelzebub
Summary: Bella is traumatized by a dark home life, the only solace coming from her friend Jacob and the peaceful woods of Forks. The Cullens arrive, Bella is drawn to their captivating son Edward, and she yearns to be a part of their happy family. OOC AH AU
1. Giant Slice Of Suck

I do not own any of the Twilight related characters. They are Stephenie Meyer's creation and I in no way intend any copyright infringement. I am sure she has a vampire army of lawyers and I don't want her to send them marching my way.

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A/N: I don't have a beta reader and it has been years since I have had to put this much thought into grammar, so bear with me. Warning right now before you begin, this is a dark angsty violent tale with some OOC and AH. If that isn't your thing, steer clear.

Love and hopefully have fun reading,

Deelzebub

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**Home Is Where The Hell Is**

Chapter One: Giant Slice Of Suck

**June**

_ Isabella Swan, your day just took a nosedive_. I sit alone in my room forlorn listening to the lecture next door become an argument, become a shouting match. I know exactly what it becomes next; we have all been doing this same sick dance for years. I sigh dejectedly and lay my head on the desk. Please, please can he just remember that he loves us and walk away. One time can we be the normal family we try so hard to make everyone believe that we are. I wish I wasn't here. I wish I was anywhere but here or nowhere at all. Sometimes I wish I didn't even exist. Rarely, but once in awhile, I wish to die. I do my best to insure I am almost never here. I participate in every extracurricular activity I can, and if Forks High School had a larger budget I would invent more to join. Latin club, yearbook, newspaper, choir, green club, anything that meets after school. God, summer breaks bite; I have to get really creative to find excuses to be out of the house that don't raise questions. So far, this is shaping up to be the worst summer yet. That's saying a lot with our family's sordid history. It has barely even been a week since the last horrific episode.

"Rose, did you forget to do your chores today. I told you I wanted it done before I came home from the station." Dad says with an annoyed tone.

"And I told you when you said it that I had plans with Greg today and I wasn't doing it." Rosalie replies in a terse clipped voice. "I'm eighteen and don't have to toe your stupid line anymore. I'm out of here in seventy-four days. I'm out; I'm freaking done. You can't make me do anything; I'm not your slave and I'm not your property," she continues more irate as she speaks. "I had plans to go to the beach with my boyfriend and that's what I freaking did!"

"You're out of here if I pay your tuition. Maybe I won't do that, you ungrateful little bitch. As for now, you can kiss that boyfriend time goodbye because you are grounded for two weeks." Dad bellows.

"Oh, that's rich. Grounded. Wow, I've never heard that one before. You can say the big scary word all you want, but I'll go where I want, when I want, with whoever I want, and you can't stop me. You can take my stuff, you can threaten, you can hit me, but you can't watch me twenty-four hours a day and you can't lock me up in your pathetic little jail." She jokes with no humor in her tone, "Watch me."

"You'll goddamn do as I say; I am your father!" he growls loudly.

I could write the script for the remainder of their heated exchange before they said the words. It was the same fight tragically stuck on repeat, just fill in the blanks with the specific details of this blowup. It was always like this, some random meaningless thing that would set it all in motion. One snowflake landing on the wrong spot that starts the avalanche. My father would feel ridiculous if he ever stopped to ponder that he is brutalizing his child because she didn't do something as trivial as pulling weeds out of the flower beds. Then again, that would require him to feel anything besides blinding rage for once. The volume of their voices through my wall gets progressively louder. Here we go again. Here we go forever. I don't want to go again. I can't take much more of this.

My sister Rose suddenly releases a bloodcurdling scream as I hear her body collide with the bookcase in her room. The shared wall between our rooms vibrates under the impact. How hard did he throw a one hundred and twenty pound girl to make that much of a crash? I hear her continue to cry out as items from the shelf rain down from their perch. I am both frozen with dread and spurned to action simultaneously. My stomach clenches and heartbeat speeds up as I sadly and slowly stand up from my desk chair and open my door to face the giant slice of suck that is my home life.

I stand in the hall and play my role in all of this. I used to cry, to scream for it to stop, to beg and plead and tell him I loved him and we would all be good girls. It never helped and I stopped. I used to hide away under my bed, under a table, in a closet and wait until I heard silence or only muffled sobs to emerge. It didn't help and I stopped. Now, I'm too desensitized and numb to cry. I am a silent vigil, bearing witness to the carnage. My job is to observe and run to my phone if he goes to far and she needs an ambulance. Sometimes I wish he would do something that he couldn't cover up and hide. I feel so alone and utterly helpless. My father is the local police chief, he fishes every week with the local prosecutor, and his best friend from college is the state attorney general. Who do you turn to when the good guys are with the bad guys? Not that anyone would believe me anyway. My father is very warm and funny when he is around others. He is deceptively charming and one of the most beloved figures in town.

Her door is open and I see her on the floor surrounded by the books the fell off her shelf as she slammed into it. He dresser has been knocked askew of its place against the other wall. Rose doesn't have figurines or picture frames in her room anymore; they all broke many brawls ago. She has a large sturdy corkboard over her bed covered in pictures of her friends tacked up with pins. She decorates with posters, mostly punk rock bands and angry alternative rock; they're cheap and easy to replace when they get ripped down or smeared with blood. Although, he is usually careful enough not to leave noticeable marks on her or to draw blood. There is a point at which even he isn't lawless.

She is crying and glaring daggers at my father. Her pale face streaked with tears and mascara, crystal blue eyes bloodshot. She has always reminded me of a Valkyrie, an icy brave badass warrior. No matter how many times he hits her he will never conquer her. She has long blond hair and her tall frame is very thin but well muscled. She is uncommonly gorgeous and intimidates most people she meets either with her stunning looks or her queen bitch attitude. She doesn't scare Dad. He is across the room by her bed seething, but the purple rage of his face is beginning to fade as he calms. Her red pouting lips that drive every man and boy in Forks wild are set in a determined grimace. "Got to Hell!" Rose shouts venomously.

"Say that again and you will regret it." my father replies as he slowly stalks across the room glowering at his oldest daughter. His cold blue eyes squinted into hateful slits. His hand goes to his lightly graying dark brown hair in frustration. Frustrated that she won't obey him, bend to his will, let him control because that is all he craves. Control. At the end of the summer she is moving to college and he will not have nearly as short a leash on her. I think that is why this summer is so much worse than any time since the beatings began, he knows he is going to lose the reins soon. We will all drift out of his grasp year by year. He is a large man, broad shoulders on a six foot frame. He spends countless hours in the gym in the basement lifting weights. He likes to feel strong and have people fear him. How strong is a man that beats up a eighteen year old girl half his size?

"Go. To. Hell," Rose answers with victorious bloodshot eyes as she scratches him on the side of his arm with her long fingernails. _Oh, dear God! Why can't she ever learn when to shut her damn mouth. _Just when the whole thing is almost over, she just has to push his buttons and make everything a million times worse. I admire her spirit and resent it at the same time. I wish she could even once just keep her head down and let it blow over. Its just her normal infuriating nature. She was born a bitch. Never in her life has Rose met a conflict that she didn't relish putting herself in the middle of and escalating the hell out of it, the very definition of a drama queen. This terrible hobby of hers has only gotten worse due to years of abuse. If God loved me, he never would have put Charlie and Rosalie Swan in the same household. I wouldn't say they are oil and water because they just don't mix. They are potassium and water; putting them together causes powerful explosions. _God clearly hates me. _Charlie stands over her and clamps his huge hand around her thin arm viciously yanking her to her feet. She yelps and tries to wrench her arm out of his grip. He grabs her wrist and cruelly twists it higher and higher behind her back. She howls in pain begging him not hurt her more. Rose chokes one garbled sentence among anguished shrieks, "I hate you!" He is a monster.

Mom walks down the hall to stand beside me in Rose's doorway. "Let her go, Charlie. You'll break her arm." she says coolly, a frown on her delicate features, a arch to her left eyebrow. She is slim and youthful looking for fifty, with short honey blond hair cut in perky bob. She has just arrived home from the hospital where she is the hospital administrator. I don't know what happens to her to flip the switch, but my scatter-brained mother excels at her job. Somehow putting on a business suit and pearls transforms her into a super organized efficient person. Get her in jeans and a sweater and she'd lose her head if it wasn't attached to her body. My flighty, inconstant mother has swooped in to end this for now. To an outsider she would seem like a good mother, protecting her child. But, she wasn't protecting her daughter. _Oh no, not my mom. _She was protecting herself and her husband. Renee Swan is not a good mother. Yeah, I'll admit that she takes care of us when we are sick, and makes us food, and is generally warm and loving towards Rose, Alice, and I. I don't love her. I can't. Mom fails the most important test of a parent. She doesn't put the needs of her child before her own needs and wants. She doesn't tell him to stop out of care or compassion. She fears the exposure of our disgusting family secret. She fears losing the perfect family image she crafts. She fears losing position of stature in the community. She fears losing her loving husband to prison. He has never and will never hit his beloved wife. She loves him far more than she loves us. She is a monster too.

"Wash that make-up off your face, you look like a whore. Then get your ass outside. You will pull every weed in your mother's flowers tonight. Do you understand me?"

"Yes, sir." Rose hisses through gritted teeth.

"What was that?"

"I said yes, sir." Rose mumbles dejectedly.

Dad lets her go and glares at me as he exits her room and stomps down the hall towards the stairs. Panic rising in me, I yearn to be invisible again. I shrink away from his gaze and duck back into the relative safety of my room. I hear Rose cry for a few minutes before leaving her room to trudge outside to the garden. Feeling relieved that the fireworks are done for today, I turn off the light and climb into bed with my ipod. I stare vacantly at the ceiling, unable to cry. I'm fairly sure that I am permanently broken emotionally. I feel myself drifting farther and farther away from the rest of humanity. I survive by shutting down, but it is getting harder and harder to pry myself back open when I want to feel. Every time, the door to my heart stays closed a fraction more, not quite able to open as wide as it did the time before. I fear the day will come that it just won't open at all anymore. It's only 7:30, but I am so weary and eager for this day to be over.


	2. The Calm After The Storm

I do not own Twilight characters. They are Stephenie Meyer's creation and I do not intend any copyright infringement.

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A/N: A little fluff to show that Bella's life isn't all bad. A Stephenie says, Jacob is her sunlight.

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**Chapter Two: The Calm After The Storm**

**June**

I woke up obnoxiously early this morning. I guess that what you get for crashing at 8:00 at night. I know just what I need after yesterday's ugliness. I need beauty and purity. I need Jacob Black and my lake, who are coincidentally both equally beautiful and pure. I flip on the TV in the kitchen as I eat a toasted blueberry bagel with butter. Weather forecast calls for mostly sunny skies today with a slight chance of late evening showers. Summer in the OP does have one advantage I'll concede. The daily downpour of rain that happens Autumn, Winter, and Spring slows to a trickle and we actually see the sun once in a blue moon. That settles it. I am going hiking. I pick up my cell phone, figuring Jake is awake.

"Hey, Jake, up for some outdoorsiness?"

"Yeah, sure, Bella. When ya gonna pick me up?"

"I can be there in about thirty minutes. I'm making coffee; you want me to bring some?"

"What you drink doesn't really qualify as coffee." he teases.

"Yeah, yeah , yeah. Bye, Jake"

"Bye, Bella."

_ How dare he insult the deliciousness that is a Bellacino. _We have a saying around here--When it rains, we pour. We start drinking coffee when we are practically still in diapers. Therefore, I am girl who takes her caffeine very seriously. I grab the pot of French Roast that brewed while I was eating and pour it into the blender. Next comes milk, cream, lots of sugar, chocolate syrup, cinnamon, nutmeg, and ice cubes. I mix it and transfer it into my favorite giant metallic purple thermos. Wanting the hike to be as long as possible, I start grabbing provisions. I dump some Multi-grain Cheerios, peanuts, pretzels, and raisins in a bowl. I grab a six pack of water bottles, two apples, and two bananas from the pantry and throw it all in my backpack with a few granola bars. I jot a note to my parents telling them where I'll be and run out the door.

As I walk to the driveway, I just have to smile. There is my sweet Sherman, the new love of my life. Sherman is my grandfather's ancient giant Chevy truck. He isn't fast or cool or pretty, but I love him. His red paint is faded, scratched, and dented. I named him Sherman because Grandpa was in a Sherman tank battalion in the Korean War and this truck is a tank compared to everyone else at school's vehicle. My grandfather drove this truck and nothing else every day that I knew him. He died right before Easter and I miss him so much. My grandmother handed me the keys at his funeral. She knew I loved the truck and hoped I'd get over my aversion to driving. I hate lying to Grandma, I love to drive. I just refused my mother's offer on my sixteenth birthday to buy me some ridiculously expensive shiny new car for what it was. It was a bribe to keep my mouth shut, an expression of her guilt. So I made up the fear of driving excuse and everyone was placated. Rose had her candy apple red BMW, Alice had her sunny yellow Porsche, and I had a pair of Nike sneakers until that funeral. I told Mom that Sherman makes me feel safe because he is so big and that it makes me less sad that Grandpa is dead because I'm connected to something he loved, which is true. Besides the truck is mine whereas Rosie's and Alice's cars technically belong to my parents and could be yanked away on one of their whims even after they are eighteen. I get in, throw my bag on the passenger seat and head for LaPush.

I drive the short trip from Forks to the tiny Indian reservation on the coast sipping from my thermos. Jake is my best friend in the whole world. His dad, Billy Black, is a good friend of my father. I have known him his whole life. There is a framed picture in their small living room of a four year old me holding a squirming two year old Jake in my lap. We have nothing in common. I am a clumsy oaf; he is obnoxiously graceful. I am an unbearable know-it-all; he could care less about school. He is brave and reckless; I 'm timid and cautious. He's a carefree lighthearted soul; I am serious and burdened. He's a Freshman; I'm a Junior. Jake's already over six feet tall and growing every time I see him; I'm stuck at 5'6". He has beautiful copper skin; I'm pale as a ghost and dotted with moles, a lovely genetic gift from my mother along with big narrow feet. He openly expresses every thought and emotion; I'm closed and secretive. He's a boy; I'm a girl. Despite all the differences, we couldn't get along better or have more fun together. We have always been close, but we got much closer two years ago when his mom died of pancreatic cancer. He needed a friend so much and I got the added benefit of getting to spend my every waking moment out of the house. Jake is waiting outside his tiny home with his own backpack when I pull up and hop out excitedly.

"Hey, Sunshine, good morning!" I chirp in his ear as he scoops me up in a giant bear hug and lifts me off the ground.

"Hey there, Dark Cloud, you ready to go trip over your own feet all day while I laugh at you?"

"Ha ha very funny, Jake. Get in the truck, we're going to Crescent Lake."

Jake climbs in the passenger door and gives me a worried look when he notices what is playing on my stereo. "Classical music again? Classical music…classical music and Lake Crescent? Bella what's up, seriously?"

"What, what is wrong with classical music?"

"Nothing is wrong with it. I mean its more boring than algebra homework, but nothing I guess is wrong…with the music."

"Then what is wrong with Lake Crescent?"

"Bella, nothing is wrong with them. It's you. Something is wrong with you. When you start playing that opera crap I know you're going to brood and be pissy all damn day. When you mope and sulk we go to Lake Crescent. Now, put the two together and I know something is really wrong. Come on, Bell, talk to me."

"Nothing is wrong, Jake, I'm fine." I say, annoyed by his freaky powers of observation.

"Sometimes you show up here with this look on your face like you want to curl up in ball and just quit."

"Jake, I said I'm fine."

"I know enough about girls to know that I'm fine doesn't mean I'm fine. I do have big sisters remember."

"Fine, Jacob Black Master of All Womanly Secrets, I'm not fine but I don't want to talk about it, okay! I just want to hike and goof off with you."

"Alright. I won't bug you about it. But Bella,"

"Yeah, Jake."

"You can tell me anything."

"I can't tell you this. And I promise, no moping."

"What about brooding?"

"I promise." I roll my eyes. He can be such a pest.

"Sulking?" he asks with a big stupid grin on his face.

"I hate you, you know that don't you. I loathe everything about you." I smile grudgingly.

"No you don't. What about that general all-day pissiness?"

"Shut up or I'm kicking you out and going by myself."

When we arrive at my lake, my face lights up in huge grin. I feel like a huge weight has lifted off my chest. If my family's house is Hell, then Lake Crescent is my own personal Heaven. The highway winds through thick trees on both side until the forest suddenly opens up to the most astonishing views. On the right, towering slate gray, almost black cliffs lurk two feet from the side of the lane. Huge cables and nets are stretched against the rock to prevent boulders from falling on the cars below. Streams of water cascade down the cliff face and cross the road to run into the mammoth lake. On the left, the sun is streaming down and hitting the massive lake's surface making it sparkle. Puffy white clouds drift lazily through the valley. The water is hundreds of feet deep and crystal clear. Every detail of the lake bed is visible. The deep center of the lake is the color of a perfect royal blue sapphire. Surrounding the lake are pine forests partially obscured by a wispy fog that stretch up as far as they can before admitting defeat at a crisp tree line. Above the line, the Olympic Mountains rise rocky and snowy peaked. This is my favorite place on Earth. I park Sherman and we head for the trails.

"Bell, you gun." Jake hands me his Dad's spare nine millimeter Glock pistol as we approach the trailhead. I check to make sure it is loaded and that the safety is on a put it in the outer pouch on my backpack. He keeps the fifty caliber revolver for himself. I know how to shoot. Dad taught me a long time ago. Growing up in such a remote wilderness area, firearms are just a part of life to the population of Forks. Most of the kids in the area have their own guns and hunt on a regular basis. Charlie Swan probably wisely never bought his daughters weapons. _The man isn't a complete idiot. _So, I always have to borrow one from Jake. I wasn't here to hunt, but it was smart to hike armed in these woods. There are very dangerous predators in the area; black bears, grizzlies, mountain lions, wolves. Add to that, elk and moose could be very aggressive, causing life-threatening damage if they attack.

Aside from the danger lurking around every corner, when I'm out here in nature, I feel calm and connected to the world in a way that I never do in the rest of my life. I am surrounded by green, the color of life. It soothes me. There is no horror show, only soft mud, and fluffy ferns. No harsh words and bulging arms coiled to strike, only rough mossy trunks and the whisper of wind through needles far above my head. I feel a sense or constancy. The trees of this forest are hundreds of years old, the mountains millions older still. It is the same sense that people get when they go stargazing. It's a sense that you and your problems aren't even a drop in the universe's bucket. You would think feeling so inferior would be depressing, but it's not somehow. It's reassuring. As my grandmother likes to say, this too in time shall pass. Time, there is just an overwhelming sense of time to this place. It makes my relatively short term issues seem like less of a big deal. Being here, physically exhausting and spiritually renewing myself, is the only thing that heals my broken soul.

After hiking for hours, we finally made it back to the lakeside. We take a much need break lying on our backs together in the bed of my truck. Jake has his arm around me under my neck and is playing with my long brown ponytail. I have my hand resting palm up on his chest, rubbing it slowly with my knuckle. I don't know why I am so comfortable being so intimate with Jake when I am so debilitating shy around any guy I'm interested in romantically. It's just so easy and natural with us to hold hands or snuggle, and we have and never and will never be a couple. I'm sure we would look like the picture of post-coital bliss to anyone who wandered by and didn't listen in to out conversation. If they did eavesdrop, they would be corrected of that errant notion.

"I swear to God, Swan, you are the biggest spaz on the planet!"

"I am not."

"Oh you so are and you know it!"

"Shut up! I am sure there are way bigger klutzes somewhere out there."

"Bella, my dear," he grabs the hand on his chest with his free hand and holds it to emphasize the point, "I hate to tell you this, but that isn't possible. No one currently alive, maybe that lived ever is more of a complete and utter goofus than you are."

"That isn't true." I yank my hand away to show I'm offended and end up smacking my self in the chin with it. He snorts and rolls his eyes in an unattractive 'I told you so' way.

"Really, Bell, really, you're gonna argue about that. Okay fine. What happened to cause that scrape on your forehead today?"

"I walked into a branch." I pout.

"The same branch you saw me, who is way taller than you, successfully duck under?"

"Yes, that's the one." I grin.

"The one I said 'Bellbell watch out for this branch' right before you dumbly plowed right into it?"

"You are such an ass, Jake. And that doesn't prove anything. Anyone can walk into one branch."

"You stubbed your toe like eight times!"

"So."

"How many bandaids are you now wearing that you weren't wearing this morning?"

"Three, what's your point?" I smirk. He just smiles at me and gives my shoulder a squeeze.

"You even somehow managed to dislocated your thumb tying your boot laces for God's sakes!"

"It does that all the time. It popped right back in the socket. That doesn't count as an injury for today. You're cheating."

"Bella, you freak, that isn't normal. Your hand isn't supposed to just willy-nilly disassemble itself." he chuckles to himself.

"I think I chipped a bone off the socket when I crashed my bike into that brick pillar in front of the library a few years ago."

"You hit what!" he asks incredulously, childish giggles bursting out of his mouth. "You never told me about that one."

"Why do I tell you anything when all you ever do is laugh at me! Besides, that pillar jumped right out in front of me." I end up joining him with my own fit of laughter.

"I swear, Bella, they should just glue a crash helmet onto your cute little head."

"That's gonna seem really funny to me as I'm driving home after ditching your ass here."

I tease. "Come on, let's grab some dinner in Forks and go home. I'm exhausted."


	3. Two Very Different Sleepovers

**Chapter Three: Two Very Different Sleepovers**

**June**

Another Friday night, another sleepover at Jessica Stanley's house. Jess has lived next door to my family my whole life. I'll try my best to describe her, but she is wholly unique it's hard to paint an accurate picture of her. Whenever I try to put her into words she ends up sounding like a deranged cartoon character. She is fun incarnate. Jess is a few inches taller than me and slightly chubby. She is freakishly strong for a girl; I think as a side effect of wrestling with and generally trying to kill her older brother Andy. Those two were like Itchy and Scratchy. She talks fast and a lot and about the most inappropriate subjects. Jess is just one of those people who have no filter that stops random crazy thoughts from falling out of their mouths. She will loudly tell a roomful of strangers that her ass itches or declare that she doesn't like a certain cereal by announcing that "Shredded Wheat tastes like old people." She also has absolutely no shame and is virtually impossible to embarrass. Jessica is the silliest person I've ever met. She is simultaneously the biggest tomboy and girliest girl. She's the kicker on the school's football team and plays third base on the boy's baseball team. She can spit 20 feet; yes, it is as disgusting as it sounds. She loves to show this particular talent off to boys and they find it inexplicably charming. Boys flock to her. She can somehow be one of the guys and still be sexy. She has a date any night she wants one. She is very pretty and wears clothes with frilly ruffles and flowers. She has gorgeous shoulder length blond hair that is always curled and accented with ribbons, clips, or barrettes. I have never seen her in public without a perfect manicure, pedicure, and expert makeup. Above all, Jess is the gossip queen of Forks High.

"Oh, look. Your whore sister is at it again."

"What?"

"Alice is crawling in her bedroom window with some random loser."

From Jess's back porch, we can see the back of my house. I saw my sister's tiny, ghostly pale body as she ducked down and wiggled into the widow the led to her bedroom in the basement. Her spiky dyed black hair was the last thing to disappear into the room. On anyone else that hair would look rebellious and tough, but on Alice it made her look even more like a faerie princess. She had high cheekbones, a small pointed chin, and perfect eyebrows that she never had to pluck. You would almost swear looking at her that she wasn't human. She just had this ethereal beauty and other-worldly quality to her; you half expected to find a set of gossamer wings hidden beneath her shirt.

"Ugh. I don't want to know."

"Damn, you would think she would have learned after all the drama from the USS Swan Incident." Jess giggles.

"Shit, Jessica, you know I hate it when you call it that."

"But, Bella, that's what everyone calls it!"

"Everyone calls it that because that's what you call it. You're like our own personal Perez Hilton. And, I don't think it's funny."

_Oh, God. Why did she have to remind me of the USS Swan. _The summer after her freshman year and right before mine, the school marching band was invited to be in the Seattle Independence Day parade. The parade went well and the band spent the night in a hotel. Alice somehow managed to get drunk and pick up some twenty year old sailor from the Navy base in Bremerton. They went to her and her skanky friend's room and the chaperone caught her screwing him. He ran away because he would get in serious trouble for statutory rape and she hadn't told him she was only fifteen. So, my parents get a call at 3:26 a.m. telling them that they have to immediately drive to Seattle and pick up her drunk tramp ass.

Needless to say, they were both livid and my parents livid are a very bad thing. She had publicly embarrassed my parents and they hated any dirt on their precious reputations. That was the first time she got sloppy and my parents found out about her drinking and sleeping around. That was the first time Alice was ever beaten. Her cute button nose was broken and swelled to twice its normal size. Her large round silver-blue eyes were blackened and nearly swollen shut. Her little Cupid's bow shaped lips were split and bloodied. I was so scared for her. She is so tiny, barely five feet tall and only eighty-five pounds. My parents cancelled our family vacation and Mom stayed home with us twenty-four hours a day to make sure none of us had any visitors and Alice didn't leave. Alice was grounded for three weeks as punishment; it took almost that long for the bruises to fade. The school district expelled her, then my mom made a ridiculously large donation to the Forks Parent Teacher Association and her sentence was commuted to a suspension for the first two weeks of school. Whenever I think about that day, I can still hear her screaming, but I can't tell Jessica this is why the USS Swan story isn't funny. I'm not allowed to tell anyone the rest of the story.

"Whatever, I think she's slept with every jackass under thirty from here to Sequim. I don't get her. She could pull so much more quality tail!"

"Can we please stop discussing my sister's sex life, please?"

"No, we have to discuss her sex life. It's the most scandalous thing happening in this boring town. Lord knows we can't discuss your sex life, Bella. You don't have one. You've never even had a boyfriend. Hell, you've never even told me you liked a guy. I could almost swear you were playing for the other team and too scared to come out, but you aren't gay. You've never hit on me and I am fucking sexy. If you were gay, you'd totally have a crush on me."

I giggle and roll my eyes at her. "If I was gay, you would so not be my type and you know it. You talk too much, you're too loud, you have disgusting personal habits like leaving the door open when you're on the toilet, and you're ass is too big."

"Bitch!" Jessica yells and laughs while playfully smacking me on top of my head with a chair cushion.

I guess my sisters and I are each a total screwed up mess in our own ways. Rosie has her nearly impenetrable hard shell. She has definitely gone the hard-ass route. She is pessimistic and sarcastic. Her default emotion is anger. If you are anyone other than my dad and you piss her off, look out! She will confront you and you will lose. If there was a game called Make Girls Cry, Rose would be the all time grand champion. She has this uncanny knack for just knowing the perfect thing to say, pointing out the one thing you are most self conscious about that will result in tears in seconds. It is scary to behold. Guys that mouth off to her or touch her without her permission, she just decks. Girl has a nasty punch; I should know. She has hit me enough times. Her relationships with boys are weird. Her type is spineless weaklings she can boss around and treat like shit. She will call her boyfriend Greg and tell him that he has to come over and do her laundry for her and he'll be at our house fifteen minutes later. It's pathetic.

Alice has no protective shell. Alice is one tiny hyper ball of constant emotional turmoil. She is so sensitive and feels everything and so deeply. She cries when she is happy, when she is sad, when it's Tuesday. She has about four emotions at any given moment; it's exhausting just being around her. She is so optimistic, always having these crazy plans and schemes for the future; she tells me she is so positive because she can see the future in her head. Did I mention Alice inherited some of Mom's quirky flake tendencies? She is achingly vulnerable and open and trusting, which bites her in the ass on the man front. If you put Alice in a roomful of great guys with one damaged cheating liar, Alice will find that one. Sure, she sleeps around a lot, but Jessica doesn't get it. Alice doesn't sleep around for fun or sexual gratification; she only desperately wants someone to love her. She just goes about it all wrong or with all the wrong guys. Alice wills herself to fall in love too fast and then either gets her heart shattered by jerks or scares away the few good ones she attracts. Alice has a badboy fetish. I think it's a subconscious FU to Chief Swan. I think she has slept with a few taken and every available boy between fifteen and twenty-five on the Olympic Peninsula with a rap sheet. I think Tyler Crowley got himself arrested for vandalism just to get on her radar.

Me. Hell. How do I even describe how screwed up I am when I don't even know who I am. Seriously, I have no freaking clue. I am the most accomplished actress no one has ever heard of. Every word, every action, all an act to project an image that the world in general and my parents specifically want to see. I don't feel happy when I look happy. I don't feel sad when I look sad. I'm never fine when I say I'm fine. I am empty. Everything anyone knows about me is an elaborate years old lie. I can't even remember the last time I was the real me; I'm not sure at this point there even is a real me anymore. I am the daughter version of a Stepford Wife. I'm a robot. I'm perfect. I'm pristine. I'm either highly visible as a role model or I try my hardest to be invisible. I do everything in my power to ensure my parents are always pleased with me. I don't care if they love me, I certainly don't love them. I just don't give them reason to be angry. I do my chores before they are ordered, I never break curfew, and I never hang out with anyone they disapprove of. In essence, every single decision of mine for the last six years hasn't been my decision at all. It only boils down to 'what would Charlie Swan want me to do'. It has been so long since I really thought about what I wanted or would enjoy that I have completely lost who I was and who I now should be. I envy Rose and Alice; they are still unabashedly themselves and damn the consequences. They live; I have more or less been dead for a large chunk of my existence.

_Lord knows we can't discuss your sex life, Bella. You don't have one. _Jessica has no idea how true that statement is and why. No, I don't have boyfriends, but what she doesn't know is that I don't have friends either, including her. I have acquaintances. The closest thing I have to a real friend is Jake, but even that is not a true friendship. Friendship requires vulnerability, trust and honesty. I am shut down on purpose. The vulnerable are weak and get hurt. It's better to feel nothing than to be vulnerable. Trust, don't make me laugh. I can't trust. The two people in the world I should have been able to rely on have failed epically. Those same two people have ruled out honesty as well. If I was honest about myself and my life, Dad might literally kill me. So yeah, if I can't even have a true friend, how am I supposed to cope with a boy? I'm a little scared of every boy except Jacob because of my father. Add to that the fact that when my parents first found out Alice was sexually active Dad nearly beat her to death. _Thanks so much for that particular mindfuck_. I'm not comfortable around them, don't know how to talk to them, don't get them. Teenage boys are like an alien species to me. No boys ever notice me. I guess I give off a visible 'don't even bother' vibe. The few mild crushes I have had resulted in me either being too painfully shy to talk to them ever again or me being so fantastically awkward they thought I was a freak. I lost interest soon enough anyway. I can't seem to cope, so I don't even try anymore.

"So, anyway, back to the fresh meat." Jessica continues with a mischievous grin.

"Fresh meat?"

"OMG, Isabella, wake the hell up! You know, the new guys are coming Sunday!" She giddily claps her hands. She is such a girl.

"Oh yeah. I forgot Dr. Cullen and his family were moving in this week." Our church was getting its new minister finally. They had waited to move until after their boys got out of school for the year in Chicago. Jessica was all excited at the prospect of new teenage boys in town. I swear it was like waving a shiny new toy at a five year old.

"How can you forget about new boys? New boys! I don't get you sometimes, Swan. When was the last time fresh meat moved to town? Like four years ago. Big disappointment there. Eric Yorkie turned out to be like a human version of Butters from South Park. Total weirdo dork. But now…sigh. New boys! They could be Abercrombie models!"

"Whoa, slow down there, Jess. Should I warn them to get the restraining order right away or let them meet your crazy ass first?"

"Shut up, cow."

"You can't call someone wearing size two skinny jeans a cow. Besides, I see big Butters warning signs from those two Cullen kids. I mean come on, how cute and cool could they be with names like Emmet and Edward."

"See, that's where I think you're wrong. Have you seen Dr. Cullen?"

"No, what difference would that make?"

"You missed church the last time he was in town. You are in for a huge hit of smoking hot old guy. He has replaced George Clooney as the only old man I would do."

"Ewww. That's nasty. He's like the same age as your dad."

"Wait. You'll see. He is gorgeous. Shortish blond hair with hints of grey. Blue eyes you could stare into all damn day. Tall, thin, nice muscles. Yummy. That's all I can say. Yummy."

"We should go to bed. You are clearly delirious. Freak."

"I'm not a freak."

"Yes you are. You are lusting your new pastor. Tell me that isn't freaky behavior."

"I'm only lusting him until I get a peek at his kids."

"And you think that makes you less of a freak?"

"Yes, I make perfect sense to me. I bet they're trouble. Oooohh, I hope they're bad boys!" Jessica squeals.

"Doubt it. Their dad's a minister. They'll be boring and lame."

"Bella, Bella, Bella. So innocent and naïve. Don't you know anything? Pastor's kids are always holy terrors. They look all sweet and innocent and have all the adults conned, but they are all the biggest troublemakers."

"Yeah, okay Jess. Whatever."

"I'm leaving for Hawaii tomorrow so I'm gonna miss everything. I'm counting on you to be my eyes and ears, Swan. I expect pictures and a full report of everything they say and do e-mailed to ASAP."

"You are such a nutball."

"I'm serious. I gotta stay in the loop. The gossip doesn't stop just because I'm on vacation with my parents and stupid Andrew."

"Fine. I'll send you a dossier as soon as I get home, James Bond. I'm going to bed."


	4. Wait, When Were We In Kansas

I don't own any Twilight characters, situations, conversations, or descriptions. I do however own this version of the story. Some of Bella's more ridiculous adventures are true stories that happened to me. And, no, I'm not proud of that.

* * *

Author's Note: I took a big hiatus from this story because of a major illness in the family. I just wasn't in the right mindset to write, but everything is much better now. Babies should never get cancer at Christmas. I am so happy she is doing well this Spring.

I had some people in mind when writing this chapter. For Carlisle, I see a middle-aged Paul Newman. Delicious. Esme is Julianne Moore. Emmett is a young Alexander Popov (The Russian Rocket) a former world record holder in swimming, only with a much more muscular build. Alexander is one of the hottest guys I have ever seen. Plus, he swam when they still wore the sexy tiny Speedos instead of the odd bodysuit thing. Youtube search Alexander Popov Sydney interview. He is smiling, shirtless, out of breath, and soaking wet, but I doubt anyone reading Twilight fan fiction would be into that kind of thing! Of course Edward looks like Robert Pattinson, as if that boy didn't completely own my psyche at this point.

**Chapter Four: Wait, When Were We In Kansas**

**June**

I love to sleep. I love my memory foam mattress that sinks around my body like a hug. I love my fluffy gray down comforter that looks like a cloud in the Forks sky and is big enough to wrap around me like a safe warm cocoon. I love my cool blue room and my thick white curtains that keep it dark enough to sleep anytime I want or need to get away from the world. Sleep is my escape from the craziness that is my life and I am usually beyond exhausted by the stress of my family and my self-imposed busy schedule. With almost Herculean effort, I drag my ass out of bed at 7:00 to get ready for church.

After my long hot shower, I finally feel awake and head for my closet. My walk-in closet is less than a third full; this concept horrifies poor Alice who doesn't believe in any closet that isn't crammed beyond capacity. My only wardrobe related weakness is handbags. I have an ridiculous number of handbags. If I don't have a cute little mini bag that's barely big enough for lipstick, powder, and a wallet, I feel naked. _Speaking of naked_. I hurry up and get dressed. I grab a white camisole, a purple miniskirt, and my favorite white linen long-sleeve see through button down to throw on top. _Ugh, shoes. _I mean, I can do high heels, but it's a risky proposition. All my heels are either wedges or have chunky heels. If I ever attempted stilettos, I would probably fall down and break an ankle before I had gone twenty yards. If I wasn't sure Alice would have one of her epic fashion hissy fits at me, I would wear sneakers everywhere. I put on a pair of brown sandals with thick straps and take a peek in the mirror.

_Yeah, still the same old me in the reflection. _My brown wavy hair hangs a few inches below my shoulder and my bangs sweep a little to the right just below my thin eyebrows. I am at a total loss on how to style my hair. It's one of those girly girl skills that I have zero ability to perform. Alice has tried and tried to teach me but I still suck. After winding up every time with more burns on my forehead, ears, and fingertips than successful curls, I donated the curling iron she bought me to charity and told her I was done. My skin is pale even by Forks standards. My eyes are light brown and I wear semi-geeky magenta glasses. I considered the full-on geek chic thick black framed ones, but I don't have the attitude to pull them off. I looked all geek, no chic. Mom pulled the "you're such a pretty girl, why do you hide that face" thing and bought me contacts a few months ago despite my protests. I tried them but they irritated my eyes so much I looked permanently hungover. That's a lot less pretty a look than shy girl with glasses. Besides, the glasses do hide me. I like to hide. My nose is a little big for my face, but my cheeks are nice and my lips are sufficiently kissable.. All in all, I'm cute. _Woo-hoo, just what every girl dreams of being!_ I'm no centerfold dream like Rose or angelic looking like Alice. I'm just cute.

God, I wish my body was perfect like Rose's. I'm 5'6, but only 115 pounds. Form the waist up I look like Kate Moss, from the waist down I look like Jessica Biel. That's not as sexy as it sounds. I look like two very different people got sewn together at the waist in a bizarre Frankenstein experiment. My neck is long and very skinny. My gangly arms are stick thin with no muscle tone. My collar bones stick way out as they connect to my bony shoulders. Where my cleavage should be is filled with ribs that are clearly visible. My breasts are only 32Bs and side-pointers at that, so there is no hope of cleavage without a prayer and a hell of a push-up bra. My abs and waist kick ass. I will admit that. Then, any and all body fat I have decided to all camp out on my hips, thighs and butt. My stick thin frame decided to grow big hips for no discernible reason, and a big ass to go on those big hips too. Despite the slightly chubby thighs, my legs are long and pretty. Too bad they end in huge narrow feet with long monkey toes. _I'm not kidding. I can pick up stuff with them like I'm freaking Curious George. _

Sighing one last time as I look in the mirror at the freak show I have to display to the world, I grab Sherman's keys and head to Grandma Marie's house. She feeds me breakfast every Sunday and we go to church together. She's all alone now and Lord knows at least one of the Swan's should attend regularly. Mom, Dad, Rose, and Alice are lazy godless heathens that would only recognize the inside of Forks Presbyterian if it was decorated for a holiday or wedding. I walk into her house and smell bacon_. MMMMM… bacon_.

"You're almost late."

"I'm here exactly on time, Grandma."

"Well, I was worried you were going to miss you breakfast. You're too thin. Are you eating enough."

_She nags because she loves. She nags because she loves. _I chant my Grandma Marie mantra and smile at her. She really does adore me. "I eat nonstop. Alice and I just got Mom's crazy fast metabolism."

"I'm making you some potatoes to go with those eggs." I roll my eyes at her, but eat them anyway to make her happy. She's one of those women that consider food to be the end-all-be-all of proper hosting. If her guests aren't stuffed to the point of being uncomfortable, then she hasn't done her job right. I can always count on her to have several varieties of cakes, pies, and cookies on hand whenever I come over. Along with Lake Crescent, Grandma Marie's house has always been my happy place.

After the dishes are done, I drive us to church in her car. The lot is overflowing today. I guess more people are curious about the Cullens' big debut than just Jessica. I still say she is a nut. Two new boys moving to town aren't going to change the world. Forks will still be boring old Forks. They're just boys, not mythological creatures. _In short, she needs to calm her crazy ass down._ We say hello to a few of her old lady friends and sit in the sanctuary. Then Dr. Cullen walks out. _Damn. Okay, Jess, you have a point._ _That is one fine piece of pastor. I'm glad I'm not Catholic because I would be having a bit of an impure thought about my priest at the moment_. His pale blue eyes gaze softly down at the front row of pews as he introduces his wife, Esmerelda. She stands and tells us to call her Esme. She is gorgeous. Her dark auburn hair and deep pine tree green eyes contrast beautifully with her luminous ivory skin. She is soft and elegant and I wish I could be like her when I grow up.

"My oldest son Emmett is headed off to college in Chicago in the Fall." says Dr. Cullen.

Suddenly, this massive boy bounds eagerly up the steps and waves at the congregation. He is about six and a half feet tall and built like a linebacker. He has short curly dark brown, almost black hair and mischievous brown eyes. His lips are full and when he smiles, it's dimpled and dazzling. His cheekbones would make any model jealous and his jaw line and chin were strong and angular. _I mean, seriously. This family is getting a little ridiculous. Who is this good-looking, really. The last kid better look like Shrek or I'm calling shenanigans on this whole thing and looking for the hidden camera. If he's as drop dead doable as the rest of the Cullens I'm either still dreaming or someone is punking the church. _

"My youngest son Edward will be a Senior at Forks High School."

This smaller, thin but muscular boy with what can only be described as bronze sex hair shyly gets up from his seat in front of his father. Just as he turns to face the crowd, the cloud covering the skylight he is under floats away and he is bathed in a column of golden light. _Really, God? Not subtle. _I have no words adequate to describe the vision in front of me. He looks like an alien, so impossibly beautiful that he can't possible be human. His eyebrows are thick and bushy but so hot I want to nibble on them. His eyes are this intense kelly green color, the exact color of the ferns in the Hoh Rainforest by Jake's house. His cheekbones are prominent and his strong jaw curves into a square chin. His lips that look so soft are curled into a breathtaking crooked smile. _Holy Shit! Bad Bella, don't swear in church. _I am swooning. I'm not even sure what exactly swooning is, but I am positive that is what is happening to my brain. _That or a stroke. Please don't be a stroke. Mr. Sexy won't like me if I'm all strokey._ I am dumbfounded, in what I hope is a purely non-strokey way. He looks nothing like Shrek. _I think God might be the one punking me._

I don't hear a single word of Dr. Cullen's first sermon. Grandma Marie pokes me with her hymnal and shoots me a weird look. Apparently I have zoned out again and I am the only person still sitting as the rest of the congregation is standing and singing another hymn. I can't help it; I'm completely adrift. I can't stop thinking about the boy with the bronze hair. I have this sinking suspicion that my life has just drastically changed. As the service ends, I rush downstairs to the Fellowship Hall to grab a kool-aid and find Angela.

"Did you see those guys, Bella?" I glance over and spot them getting what appears to be a semi-stern lecture from their mom. They both wear identical smirks and look as if they are completely blowing off whatever she is saying. _Damn, they are sexy bad boys. Now I'm going to have to start listening to Jessica, she obviously does know what she is talking about._

"I know!"

"But did you look at them?"

"I know, right?"

"Jess is gonna lose it when she comes back."

"What do you mean 'when she comes back'?"

"What?" Angela asks, lost by my statement.

"On Friday she ordered me to take a picture of them with my phone and email it to her in Hawaii."

"No! She didn't!" Angela gasps. "Oh my God, that girl cracks me up. Are you gonna do it?"

"Her reaction to missing this will be priceless. I gotta take the picture now."

"What's your plan, Swan?"

"I'm gonna sit at that table over there and take it while I'm pretending to text. You approach them from their other side and be my diversion."

"Want me to fake a seizure or sing Poker Face?"

"No, just introduce yourself, Goof, but now I'm so making you do Gaga karaoke when I come over tomorrow after summer school." I laugh.

I take the picture in what is an unusually suave move for me, finish my drink and walk down to the end of the education wing to the Sr. High Sunday school room. As I am sending Jess a message on my blackberry, I hear footsteps enter the room. Expecting Angela, I am startled to see Edward Sex-hair Cullen staring at me.

"Hey, I'm Edward." I freeze. I don't move, I don't blink, I have no idea what has happened to me. Maybe I did have a stroke upstairs. _Shit. How much time has passed? Oh, God, he probably thinks I'm an idiot. Isabella Marie Swan, speak, you dumbass! Say something! Anything!_

"Hey, yeah, um, I'm Isabella, fuck, Bella. My name is Bella." _And…cue the laughter. Now I know he thinks I'm an idiot._

"Did you just say your name is Fuck Bella?" Edward says laughing so hard is about to cry. "I'm calling you that forever, you know that right?"

"Well, great. This isn't totally humiliating for me at all." I say with my hands covering my face and praying for my prankster buddy God to grant me one tiny do-over. "Would you believe me if I claimed I was drunk right now?"

"Not for a second."

"Fan-freakin-tastic. I love my life. You'll soon learn that this whole public embarrassment thing is kinda my specialty. I'm actually a legend around here." He smiles at me. He needs to stop smiling at me like that or I am doomed to say something even more stupid.

"Good to know. I always wanted a famous friend." An awkward pause is developing. I hate awkward pauses. They make me nervous and I feel compelled to fill them with more of my nonsense.

"Is there any chance you might not mention this to anybody?" I blurt out nervously.

"Nope. I'm telling everyone I meet." He winks at me. _SQEEE. _

"That might be awhile. Everyone else is still talking to your parents. Wanna play pool?" I nod towards the billiards table on the other side of the room. "I should warn you that I suck and there is a forty percent chance a ball might fly off the table and hit you."

"I'm oddly not surprised, but yeah sure, I'll play." Of course Mr. Sexy is great at pool why wouldn't he be. I let him break and half of his balls are now gone before I've had one turn. I did get to stare at his ass though, so in that sense, I would say I am winning. Just as I am about to hit my first ball, we hear voices coming down the hallway.

"Looks like we aren't gonna be able to finish this. Let's just assume you were going to continue to kick my ass."

"Yeah, sure." As I hand him my pool cue to put away our fingers brush against each other and an intense tingle instantly shoots up my arm. _What the hell was that? _My eyes dart up to meet his and I am sure we are wearing matching surprised and confused expressions. _Holy Shit! He felt that too. Okay, the lusting and the swooning and the impure thoughts I get, but that shit was really weird! _We continue to stare at each other and I feel this inexplicable urge to be closer to him. I take a step towards him and my heart rate skyrockets. I feel like Dorothy when she first sees Oz. My world was black and white and now there are all these bewildering colors. _Okay maybe just the greens and bronzes are bewildering but whatever. Toto, I don't think we're in Kansas anymore. _

"Hey, Loser, why'd you bail on me with all the old people?" Emmett Cullen bellows as he bursts into the room. I snap out of my freaky Edward-induced trance. I look over at Edward to see that he has hastily stepped away and is putting away the pool cues. "Who's your friend in the mini skirt?" Emmett asks comically waggling his eyebrows at me. Edward smirks at me. I am staring to both love and hate that sexy ass smirk.

"Oh, this is Fuck Bella."


End file.
